The air was thick with anticipation. Mike and Fi had started something, and Pete had no idea. All he knew was that Fi was happily planting kisses on him at every opportunity and he didn't mind that one bit.
Dinner was roast chicken and potatoes. Pete has done a decent job cooking it. It wasn't gourmet, but it smelled divine. They ate with plates on their laps. The apartment was too small for a dining table, and the coffee table was too low. There was the kitchen island, but it wasn't much more than a foot wide, so it wouldn't really do for guests. Really, it was nothing more than a way to partition off the open plan kitchen.
All through dinner, Mike was hiding a near constant hard-on, caused by Fi's humiliation of her oblivious boyfriend. He watched her kiss him with the same lips she had smeared with his cum not long before, while making comments like:
"Mayonnaise comes from eggs, right? What's it called if you smother eggs in mayo?" Fi's eggs would soon be smothered in Mike's mayo, he hoped.
"Eggs Better Dicked?" Mike answered in a moment of bravado.
"I don't think that's mayo," Pete said, through a mouthful.
"I don't know," Fi replied, interrupting Pete before he could say more, "but I do like the taste."
Despite the sexual tension, everyone enjoyed the meal. When it was done, Mike insisted on a toast. He poured three shots of rum. Fi immediately put hers in a tall glass and filled it with Coke. Mike eyeballed her, but she ignored it, so he was forced to go with it.
"To friends," Mike toasted, "who stick around when things get hard, know when it's time to suck it up and when to take it deep. Thanks for helping me get a load off."
"Aww, shucks," Fi gushed. She got up and hugged him, pressing Herbig boobs into him and looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. "We're just glad you came when you did. When someone is as blue as that, it can really hurt."
"You know you can come here any time, Mike," Pete agreed, unwittingly. "Just shoot right in, you're always welcome."
It took all of Mike's restraint to hold back a laugh at that, especially when Fi winked up at him and licked her lips.
The drink helped to settle their stomachs. Mischievous Fi, characteristically a bad influence, suggested that another one wouldn't hurt. Persuasive as she was, it wasn't long before they agreed to have another drink. Pete, who was offering the most resistance, said he'd have one as long as she did the pouring. She acquiesced, feigning reluctance.
Mike and Pete both watched as her hypnotic hips swayed above her incredible ass. It was a travesty when it disappeared behind the kitchen island. Even though she was behind the island, she caught both guys looking. Pete's instinctive reaction, even though she was supposed to be his girlfriend, was to try to look innocent. Mike was less reserved. His big dick energy meant that he wanted her to know that he liked what he saw. He winked.
The contradictory reactions played right into her hands. Pete wasn't paying attention, and Mike was. Fi made some not very subtle hand gestures, pointing to the unpoured drinks. Mike nodded slightly to show that he was paying attention.
Smiling back, she theatrically put the rum to one side and pulled out a bottle of water.
First, she poured a glass of Coke. Not a drop of rum. Then, she poured a shot of water, winking at Mike. Only now did she pick up the rum, flashing Mike a wicked smile, and poured a healthy shot into the last glass.
Mike nodded. Pete was going to be wasted tonight, and that would give them license to play.
Fi handed them their drinks and Mike grinned at Pete.
"One," he goaded. "Two," Pete rolled his eyes. "Three!" They both knocked their drinks back. Mike got up and immediately poured two more, both rum. They were much bigger than the ones fibhad poured.
"One," said Pete, not to be outdone. "Two. Three!" They swallowed them back and laughed. Mike got up before Pete could, and poured another round, but this time he added Coke, hiding the fact that Pete's was much stronger, and they drank it a little bit slower.
Pete was a big fellow, so a few glasses of rum wasn't going to make much of a dent. When Mike brought him a beer and a rum chaser, that's when things started to go down hill.
"I didn't think we were going to get drunk again," Pete slurred, "after last night."
Mike and Fi exchanged a look. They were both sober.
"You weren't nearly as bad as us last night," Fi accused. Mike sneakily poured more rum into his glass while he was turned away.
"I'm pretty drunk now," he laughed. Fi kissed his cheek.
"You're having fun, though?" She asked.
"Of course!" He answered with a smile
"Do you want me to mix up a cocktail?" Mike suggested.
"I don't know," he said, hesitantly. Fi sneakily swapped out his beer, too.
"I'll have one," She said, enthusiastically.
"Do you have any liquor, Pete?" Mike asked.
"Fi knows," he slurred, already beginning to get sloppy drunk.
"Kitchen?" Mike asked, smiling and rubbing his crotch.
"Kitchen," she agreed, reading his signals.
"What do you think we should give him?" Mike asked, quietly. "I only remember that Scotch brings out his bad side."
"He has a bad side?" She laughed, going to the cupboard containing the liquor. "I'll have to remember that."
"I could tell you some stories. What else do we have?" Mike asked.
"He's already sloppy drunk," Fi said quietly, grabbing Mike's cock through his pants. "If you take out your cocktail, I'll give it a liquor."
"What, here?" He was incredulous.
